L'Odalisque
by L'odalisque
Summary: Set after Kay's work, a lost Erik returns to Persia, where the Khanum waits for him with a gift worth staying for... Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. In this version, Christine never consummated her relationship with Erik (and he didn't die, obviously).
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

I suppose it said quite a bit about my state of mind that not a year after Christine had gone to live with her foolish man-child I decided to return for a time to Persia, and partially at the request of the Khanum. She had sent a party of men overland all that great distance, laden with gifts of course, and a note which promised me something even greater should I agree to return with them to Court. It mattered little to me what that greater thing might be; the draw was in familiarity, in being wanted somewhere, in escape from crushing disappointment and society news items in the papers about a certain viscount and his new bride. Time had worn down my fury at small-minded courtiers and even the Great Lady herself, and I had occasionally found myself missing the climate, the language, the marketplaces, the blue-domed mosques. Leaving behind an exasperated Nadir and all but my most basic possessions, I set out with with the Khanum's men in a mood one could almost call light-hearted, at least when compared to nearly ten months of romantic lament, fits of bitter jealousy and moments of angry regret. I reminisced a bit with the older guards, jested with the overly serious younger ones, showed off bits of magic I hadn't trotted out in years and caught up on the latest courtly gossip. The prospect of the journey across Europe and the Ottoman Empire made me feel young again. At times it felt like the last few years had never occurred at all, as if she had never entered my life and blown the lid off of all of my years of carefully cultivated self-control.

Weeks on the road, however, will have the effect of wearying a person; one tires of one's traveling companions, one wishes for the creature comforts of home, one has time, too much time, in the long hours of riding or resting to ruminate once more on bad decisions past, which now included both murderous Eastern dowagers and determinedly innocent ingenues. By the time I arrived in Tehran I was thoroughly regretting my decision and wishing instead I had remained at home, or at the very least had the good sense to abandon my caravan at some point on the road and set off in search of new adventures on my own. In Tehran I was trapped. It is quite easy to disappear into a city of this size, to be swallowed up into an underground network, filled with all sorts of interesting and admittedly suspicious characters, if one of course has the good fortune to be born Persian and more physically innocuous. Alas, even in hooded disguise and with my natural linguistic skills working to neutralize my accent, there are too many who know me as the Khanum's man, and too high a reward at stake for them to turn a blind eye should I attempt to live among them. On the final leg of the journey I felt more of a captive than an adventurer, which in retrospect I suppose I had been all along, ever since six of the Shah's own guards had located me in my hiding place thousands of kilometers from the Golestan Palace.

Upon our reunion in the harem courtyard and then her private quarters, I found the old witch to be as mad as ever she had been, and much older than the picture I had carried of her in my mind. She still ruled her eunuchs and the ladies of the harem with all the fervor of years past, she still emitted both a sense of largeness and power as well as all the telltale hallmarks of smallness and petty intrigues. She had always been a great lady as well as a limited one; almost all of her life having been spent in one compound and surrounded by sycophants and schemers. She was the perfect Queen for the charming courtier or the plotting half-man, the perfect match for the lesser princesses and noblewomen who wished to see their status rise, the perfect bitter old widow to chaperone a barrack of beautiful slave girls. She was also, however, somehow changed from the woman she had been when I knew her. Vicious still, but timeworn, I suppose. She was also more direct, as if she had no longer had time for the limits imposed by her station. When I met with her in her chamber, she banished her eunuch sentry entirely for the first time, and did not bother with drawing fully shut the curtain panel that had always separated me from where she reclined upon her chaise. It was unsettling to feel her eyes upon me directly, especially since, as ever, my mask was not permitted inside her harem walls. Though she still wore her veil in my presence, I could see from the skin surrounding her intent eyes that her face had further wizened, that now no trace remained of the young woman she must once have been.

Our first meeting was brief, coming as it did so soon before the dinner hour, and mercifully I was able to escape to the large and comfortable room I had always stayed in early enough to wash and change before sitting to table. The shah was in good spirits and I was treated well enough by the other dinner guests that I found the meal pleasant and felt a little more hopeful that perhaps I had not made such a terrible mistake in coming here as I had begun to fear. Indeed, I went to bed that evening more contented than I had been in some time, glad that time and distance was finally beginning to supplant some of my incessant thoughts of my former love with other considerations and fonder memories.

When the first morning came, I was pleased to find that I was not immediately sent for, and spent a leisurely few hours in the palace courtyards, feeding the peacocks, eating dates straight from the palm orchard, and examining the fine desert horses of the Shah's grand stables. When finally I entered the Khanum's chamber for the second time I felt better prepared for her than I had the day before, exhausted as I had been from traveling and from regret. As I had so many times before, I took my customary chair opposite her great chaise.

"You cannot know how glad it makes me that you decided to come," the old woman said in her deep, husky voice before pulling aside her veil to to breathe deeply from an enormous gilt qalyan. Tilting her head to the ceiling, she blew out the smoke before dropping it again to flash me a mischievous and nearly toothless smile. I had never seen her mouth before.

"I am not well, you see. Every day is harder than the last. Who knows if I have a thousand more sunsets, or a hundred? Death is a camel that lies down at every door." Another pull from her qalyan. "But you, Erik, are a most welcome distraction. Few things have brought me pleasure like your company. My old ears needed to hear that voice of yours again. Much effort has been spent in trying to locate you, and in procuring for you such a gift as might make you willing to remain here with me until I no longer have need of agreeable companionship and beautiful voices."

I started to speak, to tell the old crone that I would stay as long as it suited me and no longer, but a movement in the left field of my vision arrested my thoughts. Some thirty yards away a woman stood, veiled and bejeweled, but otherwise entirely bare. Head and shoulders obscured by sheer fabric, wrists and ankles weighted with gold and precious stones, round and full breasts exposed; a narrow waist, which for all the world appeared to have been shaped by corseting, a taut belly, shapely hips, oiled skin which shone in the light that flowed through the trellised walls. Like a queen or ghost she stood, her posture regal, confident, provocative.

I tore my gaze from her, meeting the Khanum's laughing eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but the odalisque had moved again, had began to take slow and sylph-like strides toward where I stood. I was transfixed! I was quite accustomed to the Khanum's girls running from my footstep, scattering upon my entrance into a room like frightened children. I was not accustomed to nudity, to unhurried steps, to company besides the Khanum's. I wondered if the girl was blind. I wondered if she were disfigured as well under the veil.

When she stopped, not four feet away from where I sat, I saw that she was not blind, not disfigured. Eyes moved beneath the veil, a brief nose tented the fabric between her cheeks. The Khanum uttered a command, "Off!" and the girl reached a lazy arm above her head and drew off her cover slowly, as if revealing a painting, but what was beneath was infinitely more beautiful than any masterpiece created by human hand. A young and soft oval face, brilliant green eyes which gazed upon my unmasked visage without trace of fear or surprise, a little smirk which played up the ends of a lovely and sensual mouth. She was not Persian, but European (French, perhaps!), her hair hung plaited between her shoulder blades and down her spine, priceless sapphires swung from small ears; she smelled of lush and fragrant garden flowers.

I stood up, awkwardly, too hurriedly. I felt a pulsing in my wrists, my temples, my groin; I swallowed deeply, covered my mouth with a nervous hand. Once again my eyes darted to the Khanum, my eyes questioning, a powerful surge of adrenaline now coursing through me at the presence of an unclothed woman so near to me I could close the distance in two strides, so near I could almost touch.

The Khanum's eyes glowed with victory. She barked another command I could scarcely hear over the pounding of my head. Without hesitation the gorgeous creature came and knelt before me; deft hands reached for the opening of my trousers and loosed them, soft lips encircled the swollen shaft between my legs. My hand pressed itself more tightly over my stunned face, my body shook with unleashed nerves, I felt the warmth and wet and suction of her mouth drawing every ounce of blood in my body to one magnificent pulsing point. My hand dropped to rest in the air above her head, hovered in place for a moment, and finally laid itself upon her flaxen head gently but possessively, as if she were my own. I felt the suction increase at my touch, the promise of my unused body began to fulfill itself, a noise that startled even myself exploded through my open mouth, a pounding of blood, a rolling of eyes, and finally, a hot white release that left me swaying on my feet. I steadied myself on her slim shoulders and she lifted her angel's face, or devil's face, to meet mine with a serene smile. My heart, so rapidly pounding a moment before, had slowed so that I thought it might cease beating.

"Go now," the Khanum's voice cut through my slow and woozy thinking. Obediently the girl rose to her feet again, veil in hand, and without another glance at either of us strode away across the cool tiles. Slack-jawed, I watched her go.

"Is she reason enough to stay?" The triumphant voice inquired. Wordlessly, I dropped back into my seat.


	2. Chapter 2

Still dazed, I continued to stare after the mysterious odalisque for some time. The Khanum cackled with apparent glee at my disorientation, but I barely heard over the slowed whooshing of blood in my ears. After some moments I retied the drawstrings of my sirwal pants, attempted to compose myself and forced my attention back to the old woman.

"She...is here for me?" I queried, attempting to gain mastery over my voice, "She...is willing...to become my wife?"

"If that is what you prefer to call it," the toothless dowager replied, "The girl has been here for several months receiving...training, in the arts such as you just experienced. She speaks little Farsi but I think we were able to prepare her adequately for her new duties. Did you find her satisfactory?"

"Yes! Yes...very much. Thank you," I found myself answering, inadequately and over-politely, such as I had never spoken to her before.

"So it is agreed then? You stay with me and work for me and in return, I will allow you the use of the girl?"

I knew I was being manipulated, that I was in essence signing my life over to the Khanum by agreeing, and in the moment I was not inclined to care. One thought did occur to me before I answered her, and in a more normal voice I said to her, "I will stay, and I will resume my duties assisting both yourself and the shah, under the conditions that you guarantee the girl's safety and protection and promise to allow her to stay with me at all times rather than keeping her here in the harem."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a shrewd smile beneath the sheer black fabric of her veil, and there was a small pause before she answered. "But of course. You are her master now."

"Her husband," I corrected, "if indeed she'll have me, and my other condition is that you marry her to me by a Catholic priest, as soon as one can be located."

"If you are able to locate such a person, I will allow it. But enough of your demands. I have given you what you desire. Be grateful, and endeavor to remember your debt to your Khanum- as you must imagine, procuring such a woman as this took a great deal of time and expense. Many women passed through the harem, only to prove themselves unequal to the task. Do not forget my efforts on your behalf." She had been leaning down toward where he sat, but now she settled back on her cushions with an air of self-satisfaction. "You are dismissed."

I rose and bowed to the great lady and sauntered out of the women's quarters, only to break into an undignified run the moment I had passed through its doors.

The Khanum may not have known of the presence of Catholic priests in her city, but this was only because she never ventured beyond her compound. Many different schools of religious thought went mainly unmolested under the millet system, and I had my pick of several priests in the general area. The one I selected, an elderly Armenian whom had studied in Paris in his youth, and whom had enjoyed practicing his long-disused French with me when last I had lived here, was only too delighted to be asked to join me in Holy Matrimony with a young lady of the Palace's choosing. Mounted on my mare with the Holy Man beside me on his donkey, we returned to the Golestan Palace in less than 2 hours, clattering through the gates triumphantly like princes returned from battle. Normally I untacked my horse myself, but on this day I tossed the reins to a groom, assisted the old man in dismounting, and strode back in the direction of the harem. It was there that, for the first time, I was denied entry.


	3. Chapter 3

Mais bien sûr. But of course she would toy with me, now that I was finally truly at her mercy. In the whole of our time together the Khanum had only guessed at my desires, relied on the word of the eunuchs to relay my reaction to that first, doomed odalisque she had sent to my rooms so many years ago. Now that she had herself witnessed my lust, my absolute astonishment, my first uncalculated, unguarded moment in her presence, she recognized the success of her plan and was no doubt reveling in her power over me. I understood all this at once as the guard informed me that I was not to be granted access to my intended tonight, but must rather wait until the morning for the ceremony to take place. A short wait to be sure, and certainly in comparison to the many years I had suffered up until this moment, and yet- the Khanum without a doubt understood that until my bride had been safely transferred into my protection I could not rest. Never mind that she had lived under this roof for several months already- that had been training, and now that she had proven her worth as a bargaining chip her circumstances had changed. The Khanum could, of course, give her to me on the morrow as she had promised. She could also withhold her, guessing quite rightly that now that I had met her I would stay and work or fight for her like some mad version of the biblical Jacob. Or- as before, she could murder her right before my eyes, destroying a young, sweet life and every last link to humanity I still possessed.

This last thought whipped me into a hysterical frenzy, leading me to argue fruitlessly with the spear-wielding guards and then storm around the harem walls with the hapless priest in tow. Unable to understand the nature of my urgency, he pleaded with me to remember that, naturally, ladies desired to prepare themselves unhurriedly for their nuptials, and that surely my bride wished to make herself as pleasing to me as possible before committing herself to me before God and man.

I stared up at the empty balconies of the women's quarters for some minutes. I was not going to get in- at least not through the front door- and my temper tantrum would only weaken my position when word got back to the Khanum. I could not take the chance that my actions would further jeopardize the girl's safety. Seething, I ushered the priest in the direction of my own apartment, where I could vent my anxiety in private and ponder the best course of action to ensure she survived the night.

"Why?" the priest asked, "why are you so worried about her welfare? Has not the Khanum promised this bride to you?"

"Oui," I replied, sitting myself on the edge of my cot and running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, "she has. But she has promised me a bride before, and killed her the next day."

The priest gasped. This was no doubt the first time he had ever heard such a thing about his Khanum. He looked as if he did not quite believe me. I shrugged. "She may not harm her," I told him, "It is in her best interests to keep her safe. But it is not outside the realm of possibility that she would lure me here only to punish me, for I have fled from her before and angered her beyond measure."

"What can you do then, but wait...and pray?" He asked.

I did not tell him that it had been a long time since I had believed in the power of prayer, if indeed I ever had. In fact, the only reasoning for the summoning of a priest at all was a desire to legitimize the marriage rather than merely bedding her, as the girl was clearly European and would likely feel dishonored by an unsanctioned union.

Bedding her. The fact that this possibility existed, and so soon...in my fear I had forgotten my excitement, and now it hit me with the same intensity as it had this afternoon, so that I reeled between the heights of elation and the most desperate of fears, pacing back and forth across the room, suggesting fantastical kidnapping plots to the priest, and losing every last bit of composure I had crafted for myself over the years.

An evening passed, sleeplessly, and after a very long time the first rays of light appeared through the curtains.


	4. Chapter 4

The priest was snoring loudly on the cot. How anyone could slumber through the noisy squawking of the peacocks in the dawn was beyond my comprehension. It was one thing I had not missed in Paris.

I myself had taken no rest. After we had decided that I had no chance of removing the girl to safety whilst she still lodged in the harem, I had spent the last few hours sitting in wait of the sunrise. I was in a total state of disarray; hungry, bleary-eyed and racked with nerves in a sweat-dampened white shirt. It wouldn't do to meet my bride, if indeed I got the chance, in such a state.

There were as yet no servants awake to heat my bath, so I performed my ablutions in cold water, shaking as I did so with chill or with anticipation; it was difficult to say which. I dressed myself in my most formal court dress, a lavish tunic in gilt brocade with matching trousers and embroidered slippers made of leather and silk. It was only fitting for the occasion, although I was only too aware that the ostentatious finery only emphasized the defects of my visage. My eyes traveled across the room to a large, free-standing mirror draped with a white silk sheet. It had always resided there, the Khanum's idea of a joke. The sheet had been my doing, and I could remember quite clearly my younger self casting about for some way to shield myself from a constant reminder of my inadequacy. Today I crossed the room in hurried steps and pulled it off in a cruel mockery of the my odalisque's unveiling.

The sun was truly rising now. As I stood in front of the glass in my rustling brocade particles of dust twinkled in the shafts of light pouring through the windows. The peacocks had moved on. The priest had rolled over and was slumbering in silence at last. The only sound was the deep intake and exhale of my breath as I finally confronted myself in the mirror.

This was the face that had incited so much fury and disgust in my unlucky mother. The face that had caused lady fair goers to swoon in fright and my first childish love to lose her young life rather than see. This was the face that had lost Christine, after all that I had taught her, after all her success, for all our shared interests and compatibility, to a stupid grinning boy with blue eyes and a wide jaw. And as of yesterday morning, this was the face that had been looked on, unflinchingly, by a woman as beautiful as I was hideous, as bold as her predecessors had been frightened. She had looked on me, and smiled.

And yet...perhaps she had been bolder than the others, or cannier at surviving in the harem, but that did not mean that she, a young and beautiful virgin, would wish to marry an older man who resembled nothing so much as his grandfather's corpse. In my excitement yesterday I had not taken that into account. There was also the question of how she had come to live in the harem- the answer could only be that she had been kidnapped. It was not as if the Khanum had taken out an advertisement in the Le Petit Journal offering a position as courtesan to her disfigured servant. This meant that there was a family- perhaps a fiancé- waiting and praying for her safe return.

A grunt and a cough from the direction of the bed told me the priest had awoken. I turned around in time to see him sit up and swing his legs down to the floor.

"Is it time?" He asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"I don't know," I answered, "they did not specify one. I can't imagine they will allow anything to occur before the Khanum has broken her fast."

"She is a wise woman," he replied, "perhaps we should follow her example."

"They should be bringing a tray around shortly. Although I doubt I'll be able to stomach anything."

"And yet your stomach grumbles," he laughed. "Do not forget, you will need your strength for the wedding night."

His ancient eyes twinkled at me in a look rather more knowing than I would have expected from a priest.

"Wedding night?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow, "I thought so yesterday. Today I think it is shaping up to be a rescue mission."


	5. Chapter 5

Blinking my eyes, I was surprised to see morning light pouring already through the windows above. For a few moments I wavered between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the warmth and comfort of my plush divan and its pile of gold-tasseled pillows. Finally a memory- this was my wedding day! - occurred to me and returned me to full consciousness. I thought it kind of charming that my new husband had insisted on an actual ceremony, even if I was not myself a Catholic. Although there was something altogether more...exotic, about being a slave...

Turning onto my side, I faced one of the great embellished mirrors of the harem. A little smile curled the edges of my lips, as it did every morning that I had awoken in front of it. I adored the grandeur of this room, it made me feel as if I were the Empress. Or Khanum. Or whatever it was they called her.

Playing the part, I slid the coverlet languorously down my smooth, naked skin, revealing the dip of my waist and then the sloping curve of my hip, my eyes never leaving my reflection in the mirror. He would be pleased with me, I knew. I almost giggled to myself remembering the intensity of his reaction the previous morning.

Slipping on a light silk robe, I stood up in front of the mirror, gathering my thick curtain of hair behind my head and posing before the glass before allowing it to tumble heavily down my body. As I did so two eunuchs appeared silently, one of them carrying the silver tea service and the other my wedding costume. I greeted them warmly, my excitement building at the sight of my nuptial finery.

The tea was poured and the service placed on the edge of the divan. I breakfasted on fruits and baked bread with honey and cream while they laid out the garment for my approval, as well as a small blue pillow laden with accompanying jewels. I wondered, draping a glittering bracelet across my wrist, what my younger self would have said if she could have seen me now.

After I was dressed I was presented to the Khanum. She grasped my hands conspiratorially and pulled me closer to inspect, then released me so she could see every angle. Smiling her approval, she began chattering at me in her language too quickly for me to attempt to follow. The only word I recognized was Erik. He must be very special to her, I thought, remembering all the other girls who had been dismissed from the harem in my first weeks of training. Girls from many countries, speaking many languages, all crammed into a space normally only reserved for the Shah's wives and concubines. I wondered why this deformed man was so important, and what had caused her to settle on me.

Unable to ask her whether it was time to leave, I looked to the door, which was enough to signify to the Queen my anticipation. She laughed and this time she spoke slowly, as if to a feeble-minded toddler, so that I was able to understand.

"Not yet, my child. The object is to keep him waiting!"


	6. Chapter 6

He was in the garden, looking tall and resplendent in gold silk. According to the Khanum, he had requested to meet me in this spot prior to the ceremony, though I was given no explanation as to why. I took my time strolling up the path toward him, committing every detail to mind: the bumblebees floating above the flowers, the gurgle of the fountains, the brilliance of the morning sun, and most of all the intensity of his expression, fixed on me as if carved out of stone.

I was wearing my veil again, although this time the rest of me was covered as well. As I came to stand in front of him, he did not wait but instead reached out slowly, and with shaking hands he slid the thin fabric back over my hair, exposing my bare face. I stood under his scrutiny for a moment, watching his eyes travel over the planes of my features before coming to rest on mine.

"Bonjour," he said.

"Bonjour," I replied, looking up at him curiously. I had heard part of his conversation with the Khanum, during which he had spoken fluent Persian. I had not expected him to speak French. From his looks it was impossible to discern his nationality, owing to the fine, translucent quality of his stretched skin and the distortion of his facial features.

He seemed surprised as well, guessing from one word that I was not a native French speaker. "English?"

"Je suis américaine," I answered in my schoolgirl French, although there was no need for it now.

"American," he repeated in accented English, "I had not expected that. You are a long way from home." He paused. "I must apologize for my English. I learned it from a book. I have not had the pleasure of practicing it with many native speakers."

He had no need to apologize. His words were clear and concise, his accent and his voice were mesmerizing. It was deep and rich and beautiful, so low in tone that I felt it rumble through my spine like a shiver.

"What is your name?" He asked. The directness of his gaze was becoming a little disconcerting. I willed myself to stand as straight as I had yesterday.

"Daphne," I told him.

"Enchanté," he replied, with a graceful bow that I could not imagine being successfully replicated by any of my American suitors, "my name is Erik Marchand. I understand that you have been brought here under duress so that the Khanum would have something with which to lure me back to Persia. If you have been kidnapped I wish to make it plain that no further harm will come to you, and that my intention is to deliver you to your home and family as soon as I am able."

"No harm has come to me," I said, taking a step backward and regarding him quizzically, "I have been in the harem. I have never been treated so well in all my life! They have nothing like it in the States."

He tilted his head and peered at me as if he did not believe me. "Nevertheless, I am certain you have people who wish to see you return safely. How did you come to be in Tehran?"

"I was taken from my hotel in Cairo," I answered, "The Khanum cast a very wide net. I admit that at first I was frightened, but it really has been the most incredible experience. I agree that my parents should be informed as to my whereabouts, but I have no intention or desire to return home just at present."

"You have enjoyed your time in the harem?" He asked in surprise.

"I absolutely adore it! I've never felt so myself. I've learned how to be a woman. It has been the greatest education of my life."

Something of the tension in his broad shoulders changed. He appeared visibly relieved. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that. I spent all night fearing for your safety. I would not expect a western mademoiselle to be capable of adapting to harem culture."

"It's not a fit for everyone," I agreed. "The Khanum had been looking at girls for a couple of years before I arrived, from what I understand. She tells me that of all of the ladies who have passed through these walls I am the only one worthy of the honor of being presented to you. I am happy to finally be meeting you."

The relief in his face changed to that inscrutable expression again. I wondered if I had said the wrong thing. Perhaps after all he did not want a wife. I rather hoped that was not the case. I felt as if I liked him already. Even standing in a garden he had an incredible intensity, a marvelous physical presence; qualities only amplified by his extraordinary voice, the depths of unspoken feeling in his eyes, and the enigma of his unfinished face. He wasn't like anyone else. He was entirely unique.

Seconds ticked away. The sun appeared behind him brighter than ever. I began to feel warm in my wedding costume, but still I held myself proudly under his gaze, waiting for him to speak.

"Mademoiselle, I...," he began haltingly, "I find myself at a loss for words." Another few seconds passed. "I do not wish for you to suffer...to be forced into something which you do not wish for yourself. You may have found contentment in the harem but it is another thing entirely to be wedded to a man whom you would not have otherwise chosen. However...in truth I think that marrying me is the safest...is the only way to retain your life and liberty. I can offer you my protection and security, as well as the promise that I will never force myself upon you. At any time you wish to sever the bond, when you are returned to America, perhaps, you may seek out an annulment on the grounds of non-consummation or anything else that you wish. Until that time I have come to an arrangement with the Khanum that you will remain with me and unharmed."

He sounded so somber I almost laughed. "Mr. Marchand, do you not wish to be married? I do not wish to force you either. As for the Khanum, I do not fear for my safety, nor do I feel coerced into something against my will. Part of the reason I was selected to stand here before you was that I was willing, excited even, to meet the man I was trained to serve and to fulfill the destiny the Khanum has prepared me for."

"If you are...quite certain," he replied slowly, his expression still disbelieving, "then...I suppose they are waiting for us." He took a step closer to me, offering me his elbow as he did so. I took it, a little frisson of excitement running through me. Through the silk fabric I could feel his arm, as sturdy and powerful as I would have imagined it to be. I glanced up to see him still looking down at me, and I offered up my most reassuring smile. The outer corners of his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly, and one side of his mouth upturned to match. I had the feeling that for him, that was a very big smile indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Daphne knelt beside me in front of the priest, the Shah, the Khanum, and a cluster of courtiers and eunuchs in the sun-drenched courtyard of the harem. I watched her watching me out of the corner of my eye, imitating my movements as I crossed myself and brought my hands together in front of my chest. Having guessed wrongly at her nationality it was too late to procure for her a minister of her own faith, but she followed along gamely, waiting for her turn to repeat her vows to a hideous stranger in a country thousands of miles from home. She was, as ever, composed, her posture erect and queenly, a hint of a smirk or smile playing across her lips. To see her you would have thought she was marrying the Shah himself.

My mind was still casting about for explanations for this turn of events and the willing bride elegantly posed at my side. Brainwashed victim or hired accomplice? Or something else entirely? I had no frame of reference for this woman. Still, her physical proximity was enough to return me to a state of euphoria.

Since we were not in church and without the trappings of the organ and choir, the ceremony was a brief one. In a very short space of time I found myself turning to stare into her jade green eyes, and repeating,

"Moi, Erik Marchand, je te prend, Daphne, pour être mon épouse,

pour avoir et tenir de ce jour vers l'avant,

pour meilleur ou pour le pire,

pour la prospérité et la pauvreté,

dans la maladie et dans la santé,

pour aimer et chérir;

jusqu'à la mort nous sépare."

I realized too late that I had forgotten to ask for her surname. The priest looked to her, and began, "Moi, Daphne, je te prend..."

It quickly became clear that her proficiency in the French language was incomplete. Her eyes darting from him to me and back again, she stumbled through her part, and when she was finished she gave a little laugh, a merry sound such as one does not often hear on such a sober occasion. She laughed, and she looked on me, her new husband. As the priest prayed over us I felt almost dizzy.

Together we stood, man and wife. I offered her my hand, which she accepted, and this time I did not possess the courage to look down and gauge her reaction, even knowing as I did that the fearless little creature whom had just bound herself to me would no doubt still be smiling.

The experience did not become less surreal as we dined alongside the Shah and courtiers in the Great Hall. Several men clapped me on the back in a gesture of camaraderie the likes of which I was unaccustomed. Daphne, now my property and as such allowed outside of the harem for the first time, appeared delighted with the attention and the feasting in our honour. At one point I felt the faint, almost imperceptible brush of her leg against my own under the table. For once I drank my wine without worry of its contamination; swept along by the knowledge that it was no longer I at the helm of my own life. If the Khanum wanted me to die today, I would die. If she wished to reward me, I would be rewarded. She had won, and either way the outcome was glorious. For even if my new bride proved to be my assassin, I had finally and for the first time experienced joy.


End file.
